Alan & The Delectable Desk

In the top drawer of Alan’s delectable desk, I found a ball no larger than one you would use in a game of tennis. I think it’s made of light. It did not shock me, Alan commanded an aura of difference befitting grand desks and otherworldly objects in a mid-level administration office; But what could it be for? My subconscious must know better than I, it’s overriding the control I had over where my eyes lie. My god is it mesmerising, I cannot, seem to…

Reach for it.

It’s not mine.

Grab it, take it for yourself.

No! Shut the drawer. The slam startled me back into my mind, and tempted a small flock of co-workers to poke inquisitive eyes over claustrophobic cubicles. I dismissed them with eye contact and an impersonal smile, striding as far away from Alan’s delectable desk as my job description allowed.

♠          ♠          ♠

Day 4, 14:45. Alan had left the office again. Increased surveillance had revealed a method behind his excursions; Each day he would leave the hour after the last, precisely at the following multiple of 15. Yesterday it was 13:30, tomorrow it would be 16:00. I hadn’t followed the pattern through its cycle of a shift yet – that would have to be a problem for day 6.

By 14:45:27 I could see the light. I was exalted in its presence, lifted above the normalcy, the tedium, of work in a mid-level administration office. Because of it the twitch that toyed with the left side of my upper body had calmed. I’d been sleeping restless, though my dreams – historically a jumbly nonsense – had exploded to a level at which I found it difficult to state with confidence that reality predominated during waking hours.

I couldn’t bring myself to touch the marvel at my fingertips. It beckoned, but I was nervous – Balls of light in my world tended to be encased in glass. This one, as far as I could see, adjusted itself according to stimulus. When I open the drawer each day it greets me as a friend, pulsing with excitement and painting pictures in my mind using spectral tendrils observed with absolute absorption. It’s teaching me to see. Each day I catch a glimpse of a new corner of the Universe and every night I embark on the next leg of the guided tour. Life has been absent so far. Though, I hope, not for long.

Alan! He returns at 15:00. I must go.

♠          ♠          ♠

Day 739. All I can see is stars. I sleep for 22 hours at a time, It’s not rest. Where am I? All I see is stars. And empty space. Nothing, Mostly nothing. Can nothing be seen? There is always something. Not here. Only space. And stars. Where am I? Life, I hope to see life soon.

Alan! He’ll return in a fume, I must go! Oh no, no no. Alan, no.

♠          ♠          ♠

I cannot remember the time when last I woke, Time does not exist in eternity.

I witnessed life, it’s conception and the end of history.

Pride abounds.

I often think of my body. I wonder if it waits on the return of its owner… Could it be that a soul anew had earned ownership of the form I had once known so well? The limitations. I must find out.

Alan! I am coming for you. 11:00. Be ready for me, 16:00 I shall teach you how to see.

3 thoughts on “Alan & The Delectable Desk

  1. you’re actually a just right webmaster. The site loading velocity is amazing. It kind of feels that you’re doing any distinctive trick. Also, The contents are masterwork. you have performed a great process in this matter!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Great website. A lot of helpful information here. I’m sending it to some friends ans additionally sharing in delicious. And of course, thanks for your sweat!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I am now not sure where you are getting your info, but good topic. I must spend some time finding out more or working out more. Thanks for fantastic information I used to be looking for this information for my mission.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s